


Salt on Our Lips/Love in Our Eyes

by i_buchanan



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Assumed Unrequited Love, Bittersweet, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Endgame Fix-It, First Time, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Top Steve Rogers, just throw out the last ten minutes it's fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:34:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21741331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_buchanan/pseuds/i_buchanan
Summary: Bucky knew from the second Steve stepped onto that platform that he wasn't going to come back. He didn't expect to be proven wrong
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 12
Kudos: 476





	Salt on Our Lips/Love in Our Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, have some self-indulgent bittersweet fic. I had a different fix-it in mind, but I couldn't quite get this out of my head. This isn't beta-read, constructive criticism is encouraged, and I hope you enjoy <3

Dust settled over the battlefield like thick, heavy snow. It wasn’t the same place Bucky had started this fight in, but he was finding it a lot easier to not question anything like that. If he just accepted it, his head didn't threaten to glitch out on him and send him back into a spiral that he thought he should be long past by now.

The first thing he had done when Dr. Strange transported them to this new place was instinctively look for Steve. Before even ascertaining what the threat was, he was trying to find him. Bucky wasn’t entirely sure what all that said about him but it sure as hell didn't feel like some kind of new development.

Bucky didn't know if he was grateful or not that he found Steve and the threat at the same time, but it made it easier for him to get started.

Except it wasn’t precisely the Steve he’d watched fade away what felt like seconds ago. Gone was the beard that Bucky knew was soft under his fingers. His hair was shorter again, just like during the war. The  _ suit _ …

He hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on that at the time.

Everything was just as he left it: tactical armor rough against his skin, gun in his hand, ammo heavy in his pocket. But the position of the sun in the sky, the way he could practically  _ smell _ New York on the place, was all the indication he needed to know that a lot of time had passed.

He tried not to focus on the bigger picture. Bucky handled directly what was in front of him, coldly picking off any enemy that got too close to himself, Steve, or that Spider-kid of Tony Stark’s.

It was automatic. The coldness of it made Bucky feel like he was a machine all over again, but he hadn’t let himself dwell on that either. There was a mission that needed completing, and like hell was he going to fail this one.

And then, just like that, it was over. All that build-up, all that stress, and it was over in a simple snap.

Well. The fight was over, at least. They all stood around blinking as every bit of opposition faded to ash around them, unsure what they were supposed to do next.

At least, until the sound of helicarriers whirred overhead and they were all ‘handled’. Just like when Bucky was in HYDRA, but at least Steve was there. Steve, who looked so tired, so worn thin, and Bucky knew that there was more than just this battle weighing him down.

They weren’t allowed to clean up, but they all at least got to strip out of their own armor before Bucky, Sam, and what felt like over half the team was sat down in a quiet room that might have been in a government building while Steve explained what happened along with a stern looking woman with dark hair and pursed lips.

Five years. They had all disappeared for five years in what was being referred to as ‘the blip’.

There was an uncanny sort of calm that settled over him, reminding him viscerally of how he used to be woken up throughout time, missing years in a cryogenic freezer. This time-gap was met with the same blank face and same indifference Bucky had met all the others with. It was just so much more stark now that he could watch the people around him come to the same realization as him, but they would meet it with a sort of panic that Bucky felt disconnected from.

He was a little more shaken by how much older Steve looked. By the realization that now Steve  _ was  _ the older of the two of them, and he somehow managed to look it in spite of the fact that it was really only a four year difference.

Bucky had a hard time looking at the two people in front of them, focused on his own hands clenched together in the pocket of a hoodie that he was pretty sure didn't belong to him. Hell, he had a hard time looking at anyone else in the room, able to hear the Spider-kid’s voice rising, getting more and more high pitched regardless of how hard T’Challa tried to keep him calm.

No one seemed to want to voice concern over the empty hole where Natasha should have been. The place that Steve kept glancing to as he tried to hide the fidgeting of his hands by tucking them into the belt around his hips.

The transition to battlefield to debriefing felt entirely too quick. Soot still smeared across their faces and grinding inside the delicate plates of Shuri’s arm, and Bucky was still somehow put off-center by the fact that he’d seen Steve with a beard what felt like an hour ago and now he was back to his clean-shaven self, but still just as battered and bruised as when Bucky had apparently left him.

Bucky was pretty sure you could tell who hadn’t been taken away just by looking for the pain in their eyes.

They walked away, all being led to Stark’s home in the woods to clean themselves up.

Bucky didn't think he slept at all last night, even after he’d scrubbed himself clean--wanting to find Steve, hold him and make sure this was real, but he refrained. Instead he curled up on top of the blankets and stared at the wall until the sun rose.

The transition to the next mission felt just as quick. Stark hadn’t even woken from his coma yet before he, Sam, Steve, and Dr. Banner were standing in front of a machine that looked wildly futuristic, even considering what he’d seen in Wakanda.

Well. Wakanda had definitely looked more futuristic, but this looked more like what Bucky had expected of the future.

“You’re sure about this?” Bucky found himself asking as the machine whirled to life.

The goal of the mission was a little hazy, if he was being honest. It gave him the same feeling as the missing five years, really. It wasn’t like HYDRA had ever told Bucky the overarching goal of any of the missions he’d been sent on. He’d just needed to know who to kill. The why never mattered.

He didn't voice any of this to anyone, already knowing that most of them probably didn't want to hear about it.

Well. Steve might want to know. But Steve would also just look at him with big sad eyes, and that wasn’t something Bucky wanted to cause if he could help it.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve answered, calculatedly off-hand in a way that hit against Bucky’s buried memories. “It’ll be fun.”

Beside him, Sam scoffed even as Dr. Banner continued fussing with the controls.

“You’ve got the spare, right?” Dr. Banner asked, looking up--well. Looking  _ down _ , he supposed--at Steve. “Just in case?”

Steve fiddled with one of his pockets, drawing out a watch identical to the one he wore. “I’ll get her back.”

There was a promise to those words. A promise Bucky wasn’t entirely sure he could realistically back up, but one that Bucky was pretty sure he would die trying to meet.

No one had to ask who ‘her’ was. Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to know what had happened that she needed retrieving to begin with.

There were final checks, Bucky’s hands held tightly in his pockets as he watched it all happen. It wasn’t as if he was being deliberately ignored, but he felt like he was fading into the background anyways.

Bucky wasn’t sure if that was something he was intentionally trying to do or not, but it felt familiar as well. Hitting on the same sort of memories as Steve’s tone of voice.

There was a moment of hesitation as Bruce was counting down, Steve’s eyes fastening themselves to Bucky in a way that made him feel bare. Exposed.

There was a contriteness to the way they dropped after barely a second. “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

Bucky’s throat tightened up, even as he managed to find the words to respond. It was just a little harder to get them out in that same cavalier tone Steve had used. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

While Bucky couldn’t be sure, he thought he saw a waver to Steve’s smile before he turned his back on both of them, looking to the machine instead as Dr. Banner got closer and closer to one.

He couldn’t even be surprised over the stubborn way he seemed to step into the center, only to disappear seconds later.

“How long until he gets back?” Sam asked.

“For us? Five seconds. For him?” Dr. Banner shrugged a little helplessly, the gesture looking odd considering the sheer size of him. “However long it takes.”

Privately, Bucky was pretty sure he wasn’t going to  _ come _ back. Remembering conversations that, to him, had been mere weeks and months ago.

To Steve, those conversations had been over half a decade ago.

Bucky knew he wasn’t happy here, now. Stress had etched furrows between his brows that even the serum didn't seem to smooth out. While the present wasn’t an enigma to Steve, like some of his friends had thought, Bucky knew he felt out of place here. Like he was just a little too old fashioned to adjust, and that there was a little resentment about how easily Bucky had managed to figure out his way around.

That resentment was never verbalized, and Bucky thought it was in part because Steve understood that the reason he adjusted so easily was because he had been awoken several times over the seven decades he was under HYDRA control. Steve had slept right through it all.

Bucky wasn’t sure which was more merciful, really.

Still, he dutifully counted down to himself, only vaguely listening to Dr. Banner do the same. A quick glance between himself and Sam communicated more than maybe the two of them had said to each other since they had gotten back. Sam seemed to be thinking the same thing Bucky was in regards to Steve’s return. It was only Dr. Banner who seemed fully confident that Steve would come back to them.

Five seconds seemed excruciatingly long. It felt closer to eons passing before the machine fired up again to bring Steve home.

Nothing happened.

He could hear the panic in Sam’s voice, in Banner’s voice, as they tried to figure out what went wrong. Bucky couldn’t feel anything but the cold, heavy resignation settling in his chest.

Bucky started looking around the clearing for Steve, because he knew what a dramatic asshole he could be. If he truly had stayed back, then he’d be waiting in the wings somewhere nearby to make his presence known.

They tried again, and Bucky nearly missed the extra footsteps back on the landing pad. His head whipped around, trying not to get his hopes up but well aware he was failing spectacularly at that.

This time, at least, they weren’t crushed within seconds.

Natasha visibly stumbled, clutching onto Steve’s arm with a loss of composure Bucky had never seen on her. Their suits were a little battered, and--God, that was definitely blood on Steve’s cheek and that same defiant jut of his chin that he wore after every damn fight Bucky had pulled him out of when they were young.

Bucky wasn’t sure how he managed to stop himself from lurching forward, but he was acutely aware of the palpable relief from everyone in the clearing.

It was funny. Mere seconds ago, Bucky had been resigning himself to figuring out the rest of his life without following Steve around. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself now that those half-hearted plans were proven unnecessary.

The warm smile on Steve’s face faltered once he actually  _ looked _ at Bucky, and he couldn’t help but duck his head. Ashamed. He was almost positive that every uncertainty was clear on his face for Steve to see, and that just crawled up his throat like an apology that he wasn’t ready to say.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked, half reaching out to Nat. An aborted gesture as his dark eyes flicked between her and Steve.

That warmth in Steve shifted to something more feral. A grin Bucky was entirely too used to seeing seconds  _ before  _ throwing himself into a brawl. “Let’s say the soul stone wasn’t going to be given back without a fight and leave it at that.”

A shared glance between Bucky and Sam confirmed that neither of them understood what that was supposed to mean, but Banner’s breathless sort of laugh indicated that it meant something to the team that hadn’t been snapped away.

Bucky wasn’t sure what to say, still silently trying to recede into himself and the background. It was easier to just let the rest of them talk, and hopefully it wasn’t too obvious to any of them that something might be even slightly wrong. That was the last thing any of them needed, in Bucky’s opinion.

There were a lot of things that Bucky wanted to do. He wanted to cry in relief, wanted to pull Steve into his chest just to know he was really there…

He didn't do either of those things. All Bucky did was stand by, watch them all fuss over Nat and try to insist that she needed to go to medical. Her cool composure snapped back into place, but Bucky could still see the fine tremors of her hands even as she folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head to the side at some quip of Sam’s.

Steve approached Bucky with marked hesitation, edging towards him while still keeping his focus on the others. As if no one would notice so long as he didn't directly look at Bucky.

It was weirdly endearing in a way that Bucky couldn’t quite put words to.

“Not going to badger me into having a doctor look at me?” he asked softly once they all started heading back towards Tony’s cabin. They’d be picked up from there, and Bucky wasn’t entirely sure what the plan was after that. It was nice of Pepper to keep them the day after the fight, but none of them wanted to intrude any longer than they needed to. Not with a young daughter around and her husband in the hospital.

Bucky snorted, not quite rolling his eyes but the thought was definitely there. “I don’t feel like dragging you by the scruff of your neck like a misbehaving cat, Steve. I know you better than to think you’d go any other way.”

“A cat, really?”

A hint of a smile touched Bucky’s lips, still too wound up to offer much more than that and a little snark.

The trip back was quiet, mostly. Which was par for the course for Nat, but Sam and Steve? Bucky was pretty sure they were usually chatty.

“We’re bunking here for the night,” Dr. Banner said as the Quinjet descended.

‘Here’ didn't actually mean much to Bucky. They were still stateside, and Bucky had spent most of the last several years of his life hiding out abroad.

Still, there was a noticeable relief radiating off of Natasha, as if it was a place she knew. A large, garish building in Manhattan, which was already full of large, garish buildings. Had been since Bucky was young, probably.

“I thought Tony sold this place,” Steve said as the doors opened and allowed them to deplane.

“He changed his mind a few years ago,” Natasha answered, gingerly stepping off as if the wrong move might hurt her.

It might, honestly. While she didn't look injured, Bucky was well aware that she was good at masking a good deal of pain when she needed to. Something they had both learned in the Red Room.

Steve’s answering hum seemed a little disinterested on the surface, lingering back as if waiting for Bucky.

The thought shouldn’t have lodged itself in his throat the way it did.

“I’m going to take Nat down to medical to make sure she actually goes,” Sam said, pinning her with a stern look that dissolved into affection within half a second. “And from there, I guess… Well. It’s not like any of us have a plan anymore. The world’s not currently ending again, is it?”

Dr. Banner thankfully confirmed that the world was  _ not _ ending again, and Bucky tried to ignore the way Steve was practically herding him towards the elevator. It wasn’t subtle, really, but Bucky didn't know what the hell it was he was trying to accomplish with it.

Finally, though, everyone else went their separate ways. Sam and Nat going to wherever medial was, Bruce going… somewhere, and Steve kept not-so-subtly edging him towards a  _ different  _ somewhere.

Maybe, that dumb little bloom of hope in his chest insisted, maybe it was because Steve had come back just for him.

He tried to quash that thought down as quickly as possible, knowing  _ that _ wasn’t something he was going to be proven right about. How self-centered, really, thinking he could ever possibly be Steve’s sole reason to do something so drastic. There were always other factors, and Bucky would frankly be happy to just be one of them in this instance.

When the door to whatever room Steve had led him into closed, Steve seemed to practically slump against it. “God…”

Bucky’s heart managed to clench a little more, though he still stood back a little bit. Unsure, even after all this time. “How long?” he asked after a moment’s hesitation.

He could practically hear the worn-thin smile in Steve’s answer. “Five seconds. Weren’t you timing me? Mother hen you always were…”

It was hard to swallow down the lump in his throat. Both from the familiarity, and the obvious avoidance of his question. “You know what I mean, Stevie.”

If possible, Steve seemed to slump further. At this point, Bucky was pretty sure that the door was the only thing keeping him upright. “Years,” he admitted.

Somehow, that was all it took to loosen the knot in Bucky’s throat. Of course he’d stayed behind. Maybe that had been his intention at the start, and knowing that… Well. Bucky had always known that Steve missed it. “Why did you come back?”

At that, Steve straightened up, though he still kept his palms flat on the door. A good part of Bucky wanted to reach out, to hold him steady, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. And that just made him feel even more ashamed.

“I couldn’t just leave you here. You said end of the line, and just… I said it too.”

The world seemed to tilt, just a little bit. Everything feeling off-balance. Yes, Bucky had said it. And Steve repeating it on the helicarrier was burned into his memory as the first  _ real _ thing he’d known after HYDRA had taken him in.

Bucky made himself take a deep breath, hoping that would help set his center of gravity back to where it should be.

It didn't work. He didn't really think that it would.

“You could’ve been happy there,” he said softly, gaze dropping to the floor.

Steve’s footsteps were barely audible, but Bucky couldn’t ignore the heat of Steve’s palms over his cheeks. Tilting his face up and making Bucky meet his eyes. “I couldn’t leave you here,” Steve repeated. As if he could drill some sort of extra meaning into the words by saying them twice.

All it did was make Bucky need to swallow thickly, still trying to look away no matter how hard Steve tried to make it.

“Buck…”

There was the distinct feeling of being a deer caught in the headlights. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t pull away, couldn’t move closer. Bucky wasn’t entirely sure he could blink. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he was  _ sure _ he caught Steve glancing down to track the motion.

The hands on his face softened, an absurd gentleness to combat the calluses from throwing the shield.

Bucky was pretty sure he could remember when the only calluses Steve had were from grasping at pencils and paintbrushes for hours on end. One sweet little rough patch along his middle finger that Bucky had never touched, but often considered.

“Can I…”

Steve didn't need to finish the sentence. Which was good, considering it didn't seem like he was going to be able to bring himself to do it anyways.

It was a bad idea, really. Bucky had no idea what Steve had been doing in the years he’d been in the past, much less the five years Bucky had vanished for.

That wasn’t enough to stop Bucky from nodding minutely. That soft, dumb feeling in his chest stronger than reason.

Bucky was pretty sure that wasn’t a new thing. Vaguely, he could remember letting that feeling keep him in the war even when he would have been able to get out so easily after Azzano. But the second Steve had pinned that small, hopeful smile on him, Bucky knew he was going to stay.

Even after watching Steve offer a much more brilliant smile to Peggy Carter not even five minutes later, and his heart had sunk almost immediately as Bucky chided himself for getting his hopes up.

At least there was a little bit of reassurance in the way Steve’s breath trembled. In the way his fingers seemed to cradle Bucky’s jaw to tilt his face up as he leaned in.

The part of his brain that hadn’t shut down because of proximity insisted that the gesture looked practiced. It was hard to quash the thought.

Bucky’s eyes closed out of reflex, and the next thing he let himself be truly aware of was the press of Steve’s lips against his own.

It was softer than Bucky expected. Both the pressure, and Steve’s mouth. That didn't stop his chest from burning, want that he had been burying for decades surfacing with a vengeance no matter how hard Bucky tried to tamp it back down.

He didn't realize he had reached out until he registered his fingers tightening in the too-smooth fabric of whatever suit they had designed for the time travelling bullshit.

Realistically, it was too chaste for Bucky to be reacting like this. Too short for him to feel dizzy when Steve pulled back a fraction of an inch.

Bucky could still feel the warmth of his breath against his skin.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to stop from leaning back in, swaying into Steve like a magnet.

That was how it had always been, really. Bucky homing in on Steve no matter what. Calling it magnetic felt a lot less pathetic than ‘following Steve like a lost puppy’.

It was more heated this time, Bucky’s desperation making itself known in less-than-subtle ways. The only consolation was Steve responding in kind, his hands tightening on Bucky’s jaw, one sliding down to tangle in the neck of his hoodie.

Bucky couldn’t help the whimper from catching in his throat, faintly aware of the sound of fabric ripping underneath Steve’s hand.

Next thing he knew, Bucky was being moved, pushed back against the door with Steve caging him in. Their mouths didn't even disconnect, and whatever surprised noise Bucky tried to make was immediately devoured by Steve.

Regardless of how bad the timing was, how embarrassing it was, Bucky could feel warmth pooling in his stomach, making his cock twitch just as surely as his hands tightened around Steve’s waist.

“Steve,” he managed to breathe in the brief seconds their lips separated.

It hadn’t been meant as a call for Steve to wait, to slow down, but he did pause before drawing back and--oh.

The darkness in his eyes, the faint swelling of his lips and the bright, hectic blush visible all the way down to the collar of his suit was enough to make Bucky grateful he had a moment to appreciate it all.

He could feel his throat bob as he swallowed, forcing his hands to gentle as he tipped his forehead against Steve’s. “I didn't think you were going to come back,” he admitted. The words felt a little broken, jagged as he tried to spit them out.

The sharp edges seemed to bury themselves into Steve, the collar of Bucky’s hoodie tearing further in his grasp. “I know. I know, Buck, I’m--I’m sorry. You always deserved better than what I gave you.”

Bucky didn't know how to refute that. It was wrong, of course it was wrong. But if he tried to convince Steve that he didn't really deserve much of anything, well. He’d sat through that particular lecture and those particular puppy-eyes more times than he cared to remember.

He still cherished each and every memory of it, tucking them away as a cherished keepsake like he tended to do with every memory that involved Steve.

Instead, he settled on, “You deserve whatever it is that makes you happy, Stevie.”

There was a wounded sound that sounded like it was ripped straight out of Steve’s throat, barely giving Bucky time to place the pain of it before Steve’s lips were crushing against his again.

Bucky let himself stop thinking about it. Dismissing every reason why it was a bad idea as he clutched Steve closer, let his desperation bleed through and letting it match Steve’s.

He was pressed harder and harder into the wall, his hands twined in Steve’s hair--so much shorter than when Bucky had vanished; why did that still surprise him?--while Steve continued to tear at his hoodie until it hung open over his chest and waist.

Steve’s hand was burning hot against his bare chest, pressed snugly over his heart, and Steve’s mouth was quick to start burning a path down Bucky’s throat instead. Sucking marks that he could  _ feel _ throbbing as Bucky gasped out soft little sounds and his hips rolled without him even thinking about it.

Between little prayers of Steve’s name, which Steve had taken to answering with soft encouragements that just served to warm Bucky’s face, Steve finally stopped pushing him against the wall and started leading him deeper into the room.

It wasn’t graceful, but they giggled as they tripped over their own feet, the plush rugs, anything that just happened to get in the way before Steve finally just picked him up to carry him the rest of the way.

“Stevie,” Bucky complained, though the word was definitely shaped by a hint of laughter that he couldn’t quite suppress. It was shaky, a little wobbly, but Bucky could feel it shaping the word regardless.

“Let me take care of you,” Steve insisted. Bucky could feel his thumb rubbing against the hint of exposed skin at his hip. “Let me… God, Bucky, I just need to--”

“Yeah, please,” Bucky interrupted, just because he wasn’t sure if Steve would start to cry if he tried to finish that.

And if Steve started to cry, Bucky knew he would fall apart in an instant in turn. All the tension in his chest was teetering the line between desire and mourning. It wouldn’t take more than the slightest push to get him to go one way or the other.

Steve’s laughter still sounded suspiciously wet as he pressed it into Bucky’s chest. But he couldn’t  _ feel _ any dampness against that sensitive skin. Not aside from the Steve’s mouth just below the arc of Bucky’s ribs.

At least he didn't seem keen to press on that point. Instead, he was unbearably gentle as he lowered Bucky onto the bed, being careful as if Bucky might break at the slightest jostle.

It didn't feel too far away from the truth.

“Hey,” Bucky chided, cupping Steve’s face so their eyes could meet. Being so careful not to touch the still-healing cut slicing across his cheek. “We’re ok now. You believe that?”

Now Bucky could see the wetness in Steve’s eyes. The pools reflecting even in the dim light of the bedroom.

Bucky could only see them for a couple seconds before Steve caged him in, long legs pushing between Bucky’s and palms on either side of his shoulders as he lowered himself to hide his face into Bucky’s throat.

“I couldn’t lose you again,” he mumbled into Bucky’s skin before setting his teeth there.

Just lightly. Just enough for Bucky to feel them scrape over a mark that Steve had already left there.

Bucky’s breath shuddered, his palms sweeping up Steve’s back and grasping at the neck of his shirt. “I’m right here, Stevie. Right here.”

Steve didn't answer, instead biting down on the sensitive place right beneath his ear, drawing a sharp shudder and aborted moan out of Bucky.

The smallest tensing had the neck of Steve’s suit ripping in his grasp, which didn't seem to do anything but spur Steve on in turn.

It was a blur of fabric and skin. Most of it ripping under the other’s hands, but Bucky couldn’t help but notice the delicate way that Steve removed his socks and underwear. Hands warm and careful, as if Bucky might break otherwise.

Bucky’s knees pressed together once he was fully bare, almost shy now regardless of the fervor he’d stripped Steve down to nothing with.

Steve’s palms skimmed back up the outside of Bucky’s legs, carefully tracing around his knee, until they were pressed against the delicate arches of his hip bones.

He didn't ask if Bucky was sure. Not with words, at least. There was a questioning little look before Steve lowered his mouth to the top of Bucky’s thigh.

All he could do was nod, watching in rapture as that too hot feeling crawled up his throat. Wanting. Pain. All of it mixing until he could barely separate them.

Kisses burned against the thin skin, sharp little bites dotting their way up Bucky’s body as he tried to hold onto the thin layer of composure he’d managed to keep himself wrapped up in.

It didn't do much good. The instant Steve’s mouth touched the still-healing seam of scars around his left shoulder, after their hips and cocks had already begun to slide against each other, tears spilled out of the corners of his eyes, rushing down his cheeks and wetting his hair.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered hoarsely before Steve could see and get any ideas. “Don’t… Please, Stevie, don’t stop.”

As soon as Steve looked up, he could feel the flash of pain and regret in his eyes. The sympathetic curl of his mouth as he thumbed over the tear tracks. “Oh honey…”

Bucky grit his teeth, unable to actually look at Steve properly. Too afraid of the sheer amount of emotion welling up in his chest, tying up his throat. “I just said don’t, Stevie.”

The pain in his voice seemed to echo through the room, but at least Steve didn't try to verbalize whatever was on his mind. Instead, he answered with a harsh roll of his hips that had Bucky’s eyes screwing shut as he answered with another hushed sound. Wavering and almost weak in spite of the jagged line of pleasure from his cock all the way up to his chest.

It was easy to respond in kind, nails of his right hand digging into the meat of Steve’s shoulders as his knee hooked up around Steve’s hip.

They didn't speak further. Not really, aside from muted pleas and even quieter praises in sharp contrast to the rough way they handled each other.

Heat surged through him, every touch lighting him on fire from the inside out until Bucky wasn’t entirely sure which way was up anymore. Wasn’t sure where his hands were, other than on burning skin and firm muscles. Sweat slicking the way, though he couldn’t tell whose it was, or if it was really just precum spreading between them. Gathering wet on the tips of their fingers only to be dragged elsewhere.

The tears never stopped, still wet and hot down his cheeks. Salty on his lips when Steve would duck down to kiss him even as he seemed intent on prying him open to see just how soft and vulnerable he was inside.

It shouldn’t have been as heady as it was, and Bucky maybe shouldn’t have been so keen to let him, to want Steve to break him open to see down to the core of him.

Bucky was happy to let him, spreading his legs wider as Steve settled between them even more firmly, reaching down to the one untouched place Bucky had left.

One finger, two, Bucky thought that Steve might have buried three thick, lube slick fingers inside him by now, holding Bucky down with an arm braced across his shoulders and just watching with dark, hungry eyes. Ducking down occasionally to nip at the blooming bruises across his neck, or his bruising his mouth with kisses too hard to feel as reverent as they did.

He wasn’t sure what Steve’s plan was. If he was actually going to fuck him, or if he was just going to press his fingers up deeper and deeper until Bucky spilled over just like that.

It was getting to the point where Bucky didn't actually care which one it was either.

“Steve, please,” he insisted for what felt like the thousandth time.

Finally, finally, Steve seemed to have mercy on him. With an encouraging coo that was entirely too saccharine, he pulled his fingers out with an embarrassingly wet sound. Leaving behind an embarrassingly open space behind as Bucky’s ass tried to clench down on nothing.

The tears had at least dried down on his cheeks, though Bucky was pretty sure he was about five seconds from a fresh bout spilling over at any given moment.

Once the heat of Steve’s cock was pressed against Bucky’s asshole, he could immediately feel his body trying to drag it in in spite of Steve’s marked hesitation.

“You’re sure?” he asked, picking himself up just enough to brush a few locks tenderly behind Bucky’s ear.

Bucky didn't even think twice, cupping his hand over Steve’s and dragging it down slowly to press over the steady beat of his heart. “Always been sure of you.” It felt dangerously close to a confession. Closer than anything they did, any number of ‘please Stevies’ he dropped.

He wasn’t sure, but he thought that maybe Steve understood it for what it was. The softness in his blown-black eyes felt like some kind of sign, as did the careful kiss just at the corner of Bucky’s mouth.

“Should’ve been more sure of you from the start,” Steve admitted.

Before he could even start to parse out what that was supposed to mean, Steve started pushing in.

Somehow, the stretch felt different. Hotter, thicker,  _ deeper _ until Bucky thought he could maybe feel it in the back of his throat.

As if somehow Steve had managed to fill his entire body up with his cock, and that was a more comforting thought than it had any right to be.

“Sh, honey, I’ve got you,” Steve murmured, once again tracing over his cheekbone. Rasping against the stubble still there.

“Stop coddling me; you’ll just make it worse.”

Pain flitted over Steve’s expression, and Bucky immediately regretted it. He’d caused that look to cross his face so many times today alone, and Bucky wasn’t sure where the line was between doing what Steve needed, and what Bucky’s fragile heart was ready to give.

He swallowed thickly, turning his head to press his mouth against the meat of Steve’s palm. “Coddle me later if you have to. I just… Not right now.”

In spite of the thin line his mouth pressed itself into, Steve didn't seem like he was going to argue against him. For probably one of the first times in their lives, he obliged Bucky without question.

There was a tenderness to it, though. In spite of the fact that Steve didn't hesitate to thrust into him like he’d die without it, there was more care elsewhere. In the placement of his hands, in his mouth as it skimmed form place to place… Marking him with bruises that Bucky wished would last the rest of his life, even though he knew they would be long gone by morning.

His voice spiraled higher and higher, losing control of himself as Steve fucked into him with abandon. The drive of his hips said that he was using Bucky for his own pleasure. The careful fingers around Bucky’s cock told an entirely different story, and Bucky was only half sure what the truth of the matter was.

As he hurtled closer and closer to the edge, Bucky almost felt panic open a wide pit in his stomach. He wasn’t ready for this to end. For this to be over and for there to be nothing left for them to do but sort through everything. He wasn’t ready, and he didn't think he’d ever  _ be _ ready, but he couldn’t stand on this precipice forever. Not when everything was too hot, too bright, and everything in him was drawn tight as a bowstring as Bucky tried to keep it from snapping.

Not even five strokes after that realization, Bucky found himself spilling over as the heat in his veins reached a fever pitch. Cum spilling over his chest and Steve’s hand in white, sticky ropes as the tears started fresh. He tried his best to curl up around the feeling, holding it close in his chest as Steve’s rhythm became more and more erratic until he finally stilled, pressed deep into Bucky’s willing body with a deep groan that seemed to reverberate in Bucky’s chest.

They lay there panting for longer than Bucky could track, Steve pressed into his neck while his hand cupped Bucky’s softening cock with a sort of reverence that he didn't know what to do with.

“Will you let me coddle you now?” Steve asked softly. As if he was afraid that Bucky might say no.

Part of him  _ wanted _ to say no, all too aware of the deep pit he was digging himself into because he wasn’t sure if he could go back to just being Steve’s best friend now. Not after all this; especially not if he let Steve take care of him. It was something he’d always steadfastly avoided, whether consciously or unconsciously. He would take care of Steve with the last breath in his body, but carefully hide away all his own soft spots so that he wouldn’t have to see them.

“Please,” Steve tacked on, as if he could see Bucky’s reluctance even with his mouth moving against Bucky’s shoulder.

The problem was, he never learned  _ how  _ to tell Steve ‘no’. Self-preservation be damned.

His breath shook as he carded one hand through Steve’s hair, pressing the cool metal of his left palm over his eyes as if that would stop the tears. “You know I’ll let you do anything you want, Stevie. Whatever makes you happy’s what I want.”

It was the truth. That didn't make it any easier to say.

And judging by the tension in Steve’s shoulders, it wasn’t easy for him to hear either. “But what about what you want? I mean… You didn't do this just because I wanted, right? You wanted… Didn't you want this too?”

He answered, “Yes,” without any hesitation. But he could feel the weight of the pause before adding, “But I don’t want to burden you with anything else.”

That didn't make it any better. There was a marked pause as Steve hauled himself upright, still tucked between Bucky’s thighs. “But what do  _ you _ want, Bucky? This isn’t about me, all right? It’s about you because I--” He cut himself off, and Bucky was pretty sure that flush creeping across his nose and the tips of his ears was embarrassment.

Shame, even.

“You’ve always done what was best for me. And I hate that I’ve never been able to do that for you, so just… Tell me, please.”

It was hard to reach across those few inches of space, to take Steve’s cheek in his palm. He could actually feel the burn of that blush now. “Look at me,” he said softly. Waiting until Steve actually did what he asked before continuing. “I just want you, all right? Whatever you’re willing to give me is what I want.”

There was something so tender, borderline shattered in Steve’s face as he hid himself away into Bucky’s palm as best he could. “And I want to give you everything.” He paused, obviously trying to get the words out.

Bucky waited as patiently as he could, as if he didn't have evidence of what he’d take from Steve all over him.

“I love you, Buck. ‘S why I came back.”

The world seemed to stop. Like on the battlefield, on the train, the helicarrier. So many places that Steve had stopped time for him, and Bucky wasn't sure he knew about it.

His own throat worked as he tried to get his answer out as quickly as he could without tripping over himself. “I love you. ‘S why I was going to let you go.”

When Steve looked up, the sheen of tears in his eyes was obvious. “You… You do?”

Bucky shrugged a little halfheartedly, averting his gaze as his own eyes started to well up again. “One of the first things that came back to me, really. You’ve always been it for me.”

This time, when Steve ducked in to kiss him, it wasn’t just the salt from Bucky’s tears between them. It somehow managed to taste sweeter than anything, all the same.

Bucky didn't think he got any sleep that night. But he had Steve, wrapped around him as a protective blanket and that was more than enough.


End file.
